Elijah's Shower
by Killer Ladybug
Summary: Crappy title, I know, the summary is worse. Basically Elijah thinking about Fem!Damon while in the shower. This is does have plot I promise. Delijah. This is 18 readers only. Oneshot for now this may change.


Authors note! This is my first time writing smut, it isn't very good but I love the Delijah pairing. This is also my first time writing for this pairing so it maybe a little OOC. Last thing, I am not up to date on vampire dairies or the originals due to not being able to get my hands on them or not having time. P.S. Damon is also a chick in this so keep that in mind. P.P.S. I don't have a Beta for this so all mistakes are mine, sorry I know they are annoying.

(I own nothing!)

Elijah wearily trudged up the stairs of his family home to his room. It had been a long day. Klaus had gone off on another scheme to end the life of one of his perceived enemies, a local boy foolish enough to take romantic interest in sixteen year old Hope. It had taken the work of both him and Caroline to reign in the ire of the original hybrid, his own through sound counsel and several creative threats of violence and Caroline through more _persuasive_ threats and measures. Needless to say he himself had already had the boy checked out from birth certificate to personal life to current grades. Was he worthy of her? No, but Elijah knew the pain of love lost before even having a chance to come to fruition. So he ground his teeth and had ten minions following them at all times. He had even been lenient enough to give them a full two minutes to say goodnight, no contact of course, but a full two minutes more than Klaus would have allowed. Caroline had to keep the raving father occupied the entire evening of the first date.

The house hold had changed since Caroline had joined them in New Orleans. Klaus had been right, Caroline had been a Queen worthy of the French Quarter and a wonderful step mom to Hope. Between Klaus's unpredictability, Caroline's ability to plan, and Elijah's negotiation skills there had been peace in the quarter. Even his sister Rebecca had found love, well, two loves. He had never thought that he would be rooting for a high-school-quarter-back-turned-bartender but Matt had shown a devotion to his sister that was admirable and there was never any doubt that he put her before everything else. Marcel was still giving his two cents but whatever had happened that summer away had changed his sister for the better. She seemed to finally be happy.

Everyone seemed to have found love but him. After the loss of Hayley to her husband he had stopped pursuing romantic interests in favor of fixing the city they called home and making it safe for his niece. But nearly a decade had gone by with only minimal issues and the loneliness had begun to set in. Caroline had tried to set him up on a date a few months back and Klaus had badgered him into going, _after all dear brother it is rude to stand up a lady_ , needless to say is hadn't gone well. She had been smart, funny, and beautiful, Caroline had picked well. But raven hair would flicker in the corner of his eye and blue eyes would be reflected back at him in the crystal of his wine glass. It had taken all of Elijah's self-control to make it through dinner with a smile on his face and manners intact. There had not been a second date.

Having mounted the stairs, the tired original slipped into his room, and shutting the door prayed that there would be one night without interruptions. Peace may be reigning but it needed constant maintenance. Loosening the knot of his tie, Elijah flicked the dial of the shower, hoping that it would sooth the phantom ache in his muscles. Stripping, he wasn't as careful as usual with his suit, throwing his clothes into the hamper for the maids to deal with. Stepping in to the shower was heavenly, the hot water sluicing over his body in small rivers. As his muscles relaxed under the pressure of the water his traitorous mind wandered back to the problem at hand. He had been telling the truth when he told Hayley that he had loved only twice and even then a dark part of his mind had whispered _Liar_. Now that number included Hayley but still that part of him whispered. That same part of him that haunted him with images of pale skin, raven hair, and crystalline blue eyes.

Ten years and still the scent of gardenias and old leather haunted him, turning his head when there was nothing there. Were the eldest of the Salvatore line not a vampire Elijah would assume her to be a witch and him under her enchantment.

He could remember the first time the bright blue eyes focused on him intent on ending him to protect the doppelganger. He may have appreciated their color more at that time had he not had a coat rack shoved through his chest pinning him to the door. The way her hair fell in her eyes as they burned with power. But he had been granted the chance later. He had seen her again at the café with Rosemarie and another vampire of no consequence. She hadn't burned when the glass shattered as she was in possession of a daylight ring, a commodity not easy to come by, and again Elijah's interest was piqued. He had thought to have seen the last of her when she appeared again and Carol Lockwood had introduced them.

Damon Salvatore. Gentle Savior. The alternate meaning to her name made his blood boil. _To tame_. But he found himself later realizing he didn't want to tame her, to break the spirit of this wild creature. He also found that didn't stop him from wanting to have her for his own.

When he had held her under his hand and driven a pencil through her slender neck, thoughts of lapping her blood from the dip in her collarbone where it had welled invaded. She had defied him, demanded of him as if he were a vampire of younger years and not an original. He had reacted, slamming her into the wall and stabbing her had been reflex but the slight moan and arch to her back had brought other thoughts to his mind. He was so careful where he let his interests lie and yet this blue eyed vixen had not only defied him despite having clearly lost any chance at the upper hand but also captured his attention. He had shoved her away, offered his handkerchief, and levied a threat. But when he had left the thought of how soft her skin had been again his palm prevailed and his finger itched to caress it again for the rest of the night.

 _So you should do as I say._ And they thought his brother had control issues. It had been as much a warning to himself as to Damon. He could not get attached, not knowing what his brother did to all Elijah cared for. Later he had entered her home to save her from the wolves again, this time with more flare and violence than need be. She had been bound, _collared_ , and that angered him. That these mere dogs thought they could break her, tame her. He had taken just enough time to break each and every one of them, leaving one lone female alive as a warning. Then his attention turned to the blue eyes examining him. He knew what his defense of her was intended to be as he tore the chains from her body, the slight tearing of her shirt giving him a glance of the swell of a pale breast. He was preening before her in ways he had not done since Tatia, displaying his cunning, strength, and physique. When her eyes had travelled the length of him he had tossed his head like a prized stallion attracting a skittish mare. He really needed to stop listening to Klaus' analogies they were starting to mess with his head.

Pouring a gob of shampoo into his hand, he chuckled at the memory of Damon and Alaric's many comments on his hair. The feel of blood and sweat coming loose in his hair relaxed him as he massaged his scalp. There may not be fighting in the Quarter for years but he had been in charge of training that day and none of the new vampires, werewolves, or hybrids had a clue what they were doing. One young vampire had gotten in a lucky shot; Elijah had then beaten the crap out of him and remembered to tell Klaus that at least one of the newbies had some potential.

The two dinners Elijah and Damon had shared had not gone much better. The invitation had been unexpected but the thought of seeing more of the woman and her schemes had been too tempting and Elijah had paid for it. First Elijah had seethed inside at the sight of her date; Elijah had charmed him with veiled hostility as he had charmed many before, the man no doubt had several questions about his sexuality to ponder after their encounter. But this evening had a twist as Elijah perished at the hands of the hunter/history teacher to the sight of Damon's wine stained lips up turned up in victory. They hadn't remembered to leave the dagger in. It had not mattered as he soon learned that the doppelgänger had taken a page from the blue eyed vixen's book.

He had worried over Damon's relationship with the teacher after that but soon the reality of simple drinking buddies and good, if not strange, friends revealed itself. The teacher had lived another day.

The look in Damon's eyes at his betrayal had hurt but family must always come first. Family stabbed him in the chest with a dagger and left him in a coffin. He dreamed of silky raven locks, porcelain skin, and always the same haunting azure eyes.

When he had awoken in his coffin to find that Damon had left a small note in his pocket covered in the wafting sent of gardenias and leather. That scent wasn't now a constant in his mind and wasn't what made him aware of slip of paper in his pocket in the first place. A bloody red kiss hadn't been left by the ex's and o's, he didn't still trace that small kiss as the note did not rest in his pocket even now. He was beginning to worry about how much lying he was doing.

He was curious as to what part she had cast for him in her latest endeavor. They had met in a field of wild flowers, horribly cliché, but it still made him wonder. He had learned everything there was to be found about the eldest Salvatore from the moment she first caught his eye, his chest still ached and he pretended it was from the memory of the coat rack, and still understanding eluded him. He knew she was born here and he found himself wondering after who she had been before the ways of a vampire changed her, what she looked like in the dresses she wore in her life instead of the leather coat and jeans she chose for her afterlife, if she had always been this devious or had she learned, and so many other questions. None of which she would answer he was certain.

He pretended not to feel the race of pleasure at being her favorite original, her anything, not that he had been given any competition for that title. He had offered her his arm as they walked and for a moment he wondered what would have been had they been in his time and both still human. He never finished that thought, somethings were better left un-ventured and some pains better left un-felt.

The second dinner had been no better with both their brothers acting like children. Damon had winked at him over the table and stroked his calf with her foot when the mention of Tatia rattled his mask, he wasn't even sure she knew she did it. He had seen her flinch at the mention of Katherine, he himself still felt the pain of Katerina's loss, but Damon had lost a first love and to betrayal at that. It had caused many of her walls, none that he was not certain he could conquer, but ones he wished had never had a reason to be there. Had he not seen her chosen date for the first dinner he may have thought his pursuit of her pointless. Perhaps it still was as he never actually got to start. When Klaus attacked Stefan, Elijah pinned Damon once again to a wall. The feeling her under his hand caused the burn in his chest to flare just as it had the first time but he needed to focus. It had ended in a way he would never have thought possible: with the return of his mother; and Damon had vanished with her brother in the midst of the chaos.

He did not see her again till the Ball, one arm wrapped around Elena as she was led in. Klaus was busy that evening with the blonde who dared defy him. Elijah was beginning to see a pattern in the women he and his brother were affectionate for. Damon had stolen his breath when he saw her, her dress was red making her blue eyes burn like sapphire, the straps of the dress designed to hang on her arms as if pulled down and the corset back low, tight, and tied open as if she had been ravished mere moments before. There were many things being a vampire was good for but listening to his families snickers at his reaction while trying to find the source of his torment was not one of them. At least there was the mercy of his mother still being mortal, though he had little doubt now that Finn had run to tell her that there may be leverage against him.

The memory of the gown sent a throb of pleasure down his spine and his cock twitched at the image. He ignored it in favor of soaping his washcloth.

He had danced with Damon that night, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. He both loved and hated the dance, holding her so close to him and yet having to hand her to another for them to hold her the same even knowing he would have her back for the end of the dance. His torment didn't end there. The low back and open lacing had placed his hand on her bare back. The shiver that ran up her spine as her eyes took on a look of desire was one that fueled many nights of dark haired strangers in his bed and many more of taking matters into his own hands when the strangers weren't enough, as his impatient dick was urging now.

The night had ended in suspicion and she had left his arms. The next time they met they were on opposite side of the field again instead of nearly standing together. She killed the mother of the Bennet witch and grants her another life. Perhaps there is mercy in Damon after all and again the puzzle of this woman sends him reeling. But he has his mother to deal with.

Then he is faced with the truth of his monstrous side, usually covered in morality and nobility so he doesn't have to face it. He leaves Mystic falls wondering if this is the last time he will see the piercing crystalline eyes. His monster snarls no just as his human part does. Whether she is better off without him or not Damon Salvatore had him, even if she had no desire or clue.

He got word of Finn's death and then Alaric's. It was time to return. He had lost one of his brothers, returned to save another, and failed. She went to save her friend and he died in her arms. They both lost that night and they both mourned alone.

He didn't see her again till she was hunting the cure for Elena. He had gone in search of it as well and found Katherine, fallen for her spell again, and again it broke. He had run farther this time, following his brother to New Orleans, he never returned after that. And still she haunts him in the night.

The memories of her stirred him again, his cock pulsing with the need for her. Sliding his hand downwards he gripped his needy cock, the first stroke sending a bolt of lightning down his spine. He began a familiar rhythm. He usually pushed away the thoughts of his- of Damon, but the long day and tiring negotiations made the sweet sound of her voice in mind his too tempting for even his control.

Elijah braced one hand against the shower wall as the spray of hot water beat down on his back. The image of hands with two sets of rings stroked his back, replacing the water, one to protect her from the light and the other to mark the owner of the hands as his and his alone. Damon's nails bit into his back, drawing blood as he pumped into her silky heat, her own sign of ownership. His thumb swiped over the head of his weeping cock spreading his seed only for it to be washed away by the flowing water.

He had concocted many fantasies over the last few years. He had imagined so many places, so many ways he wanted her. He had imagined fucking her in this very shower, her hair plastered to her body as she glistened with water droplets, wrapped tight in his arms. Imaged watching her too blue eyes peer up at him while her smart mouth stretched around his cock, smirk still firmly in place. Or when he was feeling wrathful at the end the day his mind would go back to the first time they met in the abandoned mansion. Ending instead with him pinning her to the door and claiming her over and over, her legs wrapped around his waist, mouth open in a silent cry, and her head tipped back offering her neck in submission. Her clothes would hang from her glistening form in tatters while he would remain dressed in his suit; his pants opened just enough to fuck her. She always came with his name on her lips.

He imagined her here in New Orleans, of pulling her into an alley way during one of the many parades, forcing her hands against the wall, pulling at clothes till he could slid in to her tight heat. Imagined her blue eyes looking at him over her shoulder as raven tresses fell in her blissed face. He would take her just a few feet from the eyes of any one who cared to look and both would know that every vampire, hybrid, and werewolf could hear them, would know that she was his, and that he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him. He knew that many would covet her, many already did, and she was too rare a beauty for them not to. They could hardly be blamed for their lingering looks and covetous gazes, her curves and eyes tempted even the most pious, but she was his, his to hold, his to own, his to fuck. The knowledge causing his cock to harden and swell as did his possessiveness. He tugged harder on his dick, pre-cum trickling down his cock and over his fingers.

His cock gave another painful throb as his favorite fantasy came to him. It was the one that had filled his head since his mother's ball. She would be spread on his sheets, her slender but powerful arms pulled over her head, and her hands tied to his head board with one of his ties. The damnable red dress torn from her body and decorating his floor in colorful ribbons. Her hair would spill like ink over his pillows and her skin would glow in the moonlight pouring in from his open balcony doors. Her skin would smell of leather and gardenias and taste of sin. Her long milky legs would stretch down the length of his bed, slightly spread to invite him closer. Her eyes would burn in the pale light with her lips kissed red and stained with blood. The thought of whose blood it would be, her or his own, sent another pulse though him and he added a twist of his wrist as he felt heat pool in his stomach. God what this woman did to him.

Her eyes would darken with want at the sight of him hovering over her, bare before her gaze for her inspection, the weight of her staring like a caress against his skin. But he would not touch her not until she asked. He would feel her arch up off the bed and press against him for a moment, her legs spreading that much more. He would kiss her then, moving to her neck and resisting the urge to sink in his fangs and taste her blood. He would move lower palming and plucking at her breasts as they spilled from his hands, lingering till her nipples were over sensitized peaks. Then he would again move lower, dipping his tongue into her navel, biting at her hip bones, and leaving a trail of marks that healed too soon. He growled at the thought of his mark being erased so quickly.

Then he would hold her gaze as he lowered his mouth to where she needed him and his hands would trace over her quivering thighs, writing his name again and again with his fingertips in every language he knew. He would watch as her eyes fluttered shut as she ground against his mouth, only to snap back open when he stopped as she neared the edge. She would look at him defiantly when she realized what he demanded of her. If she wanted to come she would have to beg. She would be too proud to do so, but Elijah was nothing if not patient. He would take his time, teasing her to the very brink before letting her fall slowly back from her high, never enough to give her what she wanted. Finally she would beg after hours of denial, and Elijah would have his victory over her.

He would pull away completely then, listening to her whine in frustration before kissing it from her lips. The first time she came for him would be with the feel of him inside her and dragging her legs around his waist he would finally plunge into her. He would slide into her velvet heat, groaning as her walls gripped his cock. He would lean over her till his lips rest at her ear and her nipples graze his chest with every gasp of air, sending a shudder through her.

"You are mine." Settling for a moment to watch as her head was thrown back and she keened, but her eyes would never leave his. He would not be slow or gentle, there would be time for that later, and this was a claiming. Pulling out slowly he slammed his hips into her and she arched off the bed, his hands having to hold her hips still. Again and again slipping in and out of her body, watching her writhe in his bed as their tempo increased and she approached the edge again. The heat in his own stomach burst into an inferno and is balls drew tight. The image of her pleasure filled eyes going wide, her hands gripping his headboard so tight they left marks, and her back arching towards him brought him dangerously close to finishing before her.

"Tell me who you belong to." She shakes her head, still defiant, but the rise of her hips against his as she seeks her release would betrayed her. "Tell me." He aims his hips so he is battering the one spot that makes her scream on every stroke.

"Yours." She whispers her gaze turned to the wall.

"Again." He demands, grabbing her chin and forcing her gaze back to his.

"Yours! Please!" She begs, relenting to his onslaught of pleasure. This time Elijah would not back off, pumping into her harder and faster as she tips over the edge.

"ELIJAH!" Her body tenses under him as she is lost to her pleasure. The sound of his name on her lips undid him and Elijah came as well, his seed splattering against the shower wall and sliding down his fingers and slowly softening dick.

Elijah finished washing and climbed out of the shower. Quickly toweling off he decided to forgo his usual t-shirt and pulled on his sleep pants, the balmy New Orleans night made it too hot to consider any extra clothes. Finishing his nightly routine he headed for bed, the sight of which brought Damon and his… feelings for her to mind again. The image of her sprawled on his bed in sleep, the bed ruffled from their love making, and her bare from the heat burned in his mind. He felt a want to crawl in beside her and hold her through the night, to know that he would wake up to her by his side and not just another day of negotiations and peace keeping. Her back pressed to his front, her silky raven tresses tickling his nose, the smell of her skin mixed with his own, her head resting on his pillow, his arm thrown over her waist, and a small band on the finger of one hand tangled with his own that held a similar one. The rings serving as a lasting mark that not only was she his but he hers as well.

Elijah sighed as the image of her faded. It had been so long, and there was finally peace in the Quarter but he could not leave his brother, his family, or his niece.

And still he burned for her.

But he had told his brother that he was going to go after what he wanted and he had meant that. All of his siblings had found happiness; he himself had finally achieved his goal and redeemed his brother.

He couldn't leave.

He pressed zero on his speed dial.

But he could take a vacation. He had negotiated a lasting peace between blood thirsty vampires, scheming witches, proud werewolves, and paranoid hybrids; he could woo one vampire, even one as stubborn as the eldest Salvatore. And if words did not work there were other measures he could resort to. She would come with him of her own free will but he had several tricks he had learned over his thousand or so years that would help to convince her of his intentions.

"Alex, have my car ready for tomorrow morning." He would need the drive to plan his attack of Damon's defenses. She had been hurt too many times to take him at face value, and he found himself cursing Katerina for her cruelty.

"Of course, sir, may I enquire where you will be headed?"

"Mystic Falls, there is something I need to collect; I won't be gone more than two weeks." He would not be coming back without her but he could not be away for too long. He would need to act quickly or Klaus would start WWIII in his absence.

"Very good, sir." Elijah hung up and climbed into bed, a single thought pervading his mind before sleep took hold.

It was time to bring his own Queen home.

Hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if I will continue but I will probably post more oneshots at the very least.


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